Page 76 of Winter Longing
Ailsa forced herself to smile at him.
***
Cole wasn’t afraid, not exactly. Fear would have been easier to define, maybe even easier to confront. Instead, he felt an unshakable sense of inadequacy, a gnawing doubt in his own ability to meet the expectations of what would be required of him. He was a man thrown into a world that demanded skills and knowledge he hadn’t had the time to acquire. The weight of it pressed against him more than any tangible fear of death or injury.
In a quiet voice while they supped, he confessed to Ailsa, “I don’t even know how to prepare, what to do.”
“I will help ye,” she said simply, calmly.
Later, they spent the night tangled in each other’s arms, bodies speaking the words neither dared to say aloud. Theheat between them was desperate, almost frantic, a silent acknowledgment of his imminent departure and the possibility that this might be their last night together.
Still, as she slept beside him, her head resting lightly against his chest, Cole stared at the ceiling, wrestling with the storm of emotions raging in his chest. He wanted to tell her how much she had come to mean to him. But what good would it do to burden her with his feelings now, on the eve of his departure? To confess the depth of his feelings when there was no promise he’d survive to see her again? He feared giving her hope that might turn to sorrow. And, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure he could handle the rejection, should she not feel the same. Better to leave with her last memory of him unmarred by clumsy declarations.
Instead, he tightened his hold around her, pressing a kiss to her hair as he closed his eyes.
In the morning, amid the bustle of the courtyard, where hundreds of people readied to leave or prepared to say goodbye, Cole and Ailsa stood close, their parting overshadowed by an attempt to appear brave for one another, though both were terrified of what the day and following weeks might bring.
“Like as nae, it will come to naught,” Ailsa said, her voice calm despite the tears threatening to spill. “Mayhap they’re nae moving to make war, but only scouting.”
Cole managed a weak smile, attempting to lighten the heavy atmosphere. “I’ll try like hell not to embarrass you.”
“Mayhap instead,” she countered, a faint smile breaking through her sorrow, “try like hell to come back to me.”
He kissed her, long enough to feel her tremble, brief enough to keep the moment from breaking them both. When he pulled back, her hands lingered on his arms, her fingers curled into his sleeve.
“You’re strong, Cole,” she told him, her voice steady. “You’re capable, and fierce.”
He grinned. “Okay, I get it. Positive affirmations.”
“It’s nae just words,” she said firmly. “Truth is what it is.”
“I wish I had as much faith in me as you do, Ailsa.”
She searched his face. “Did ye find yerself frightened or anxious, mayhap even outright terrified, in your...in that other life?”
He shrugged, drawing the motion out as he considered. “Yeah, I mean, sure. I’ve known fear, anxiety, dread.”
“And ye walked through it, did ye nae? You’re still the same man, here in this time, are ye nae? Ye’ll face this as steadfastly as ye did any obstacle in your own time.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell her that the fears he’d faced in the twenty-first century—raging fires, death, the loss of friends—seemed to pale in comparison to what lay ahead. This wasn’t a simulated training exercise or a controlled disaster response. It was war, and he felt woefully unprepared. It was like sending men overseas, Marines or any US military, with barely a week of training.
Still, he nodded, unwilling to let her worry more than she already did. Her fear was there, just under the surface, waiting to break free once he was gone, he was sure. “I got this. I can do this,” he said, pulling her closer. “But not without one more kiss goodbye.”
Their lips met again, a bittersweet blend of hope and heartache, a silent promise to find their way back to each other, no matter the odds.
“When I get on that horse,” he said softly, his breath brushing against her lips as they parted, “I won’t be able to look back. Don’t wait for a final wave or anything like that.” He didn’t want his last sight of Ailsa to be her sadness or the fear she triedso hard to hide. Gently, he added, “I packed away some images from last night. That’s how I want to remember you.”
He might have pulled away then, but Ailsa held him firm. She locked her gaze with his, her expression fierce. “I would rather have this with ye, all those small but glorious moments since we wed, than naught at all.”
Her chest tightened and he fought back the maddening tingling of tears at the back of his throat and eyes. “Same. Absolutely.” Glorious moments, indeed. He kissed her one more time.
Ten minutes later, as they rode with Tavis and the Sinclair army, Cole turned to Tank, his voice low but edged with uncertainty. “I’m not sure I can actually kill someone,” he admitted.
Tank, ever the Marine, didn’t hesitate. “You will if you have to. You’ve heard it before, maybe even seen it in some meme on social media—this isn’t about fightingthem, the English. It’s about fighting for what’sbehindus. If the English prevail, Cole, Ailsa and everyone at Torr Cinnteag are in danger. We fight for what’s behind us.”
Cole frowned, his thoughts circling back to yesterday. “Maybe I should’ve stabbed that red deer,” he muttered. “Might’ve felt better prepared if I’d at least swung a sword for real.”
Tank laughed. “Seems you’ll have plenty of opportunity for that.” He leaned toward him between their horses, extending a hand. “Whatever happens, it’s been an honor, my friend. You’ve been solid, through and through, for more than a decade. One of the good guys—always have been. We’ve been here a month, trapped in this crazy century, and not once have you blamed me for dragging you to Scotland in the first place.”
